Multiple Moms

This was my childhood. The younger brother. The youngest cousin. And any family within five years of me was girl. I was bossed, bullied, tattled on, corralled, directed and disciplined.

I was also loved, deeply loved, by the females in my life. All older. All bossy. And all loving. This picture kind of explains it.

Kim, Jeffrey, Tina, Cindy and Jill

I’m sure that’s the reason I've written so much about women, why I care about their struggle with self image, why I’m concerned about sexual abuse of the most vulnerable, why the situation in Nigeria crushes me and why relationship is my highest value. 

We may get older, but our childhood travels with us. Sometimes it's like a warm coat on a cold day. Sometimes more like ill-fitting shoes. We can change our shoes, but it will always be a part of our story. 

I'm thankful for my childhood and the profound impact of my mom's life on me. I'm thankful for the impact of her sister, Pat, and the four girls in the picture, who felt it was their job to "mother" me. 

Moms come in all shapes, sizes and ages. Sometimes we're born to them, sometimes we find them and sometimes God brings them to us. What's certain is we all need at least one. Fortunately, I've had many.